


The Way It Ends

by Kithri



Category: Fringe
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-13
Updated: 2013-11-13
Packaged: 2017-12-29 17:08:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1007924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kithri/pseuds/Kithri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Esther Figglesworth.</p><p>It all came back to Esther Figglesworth. Every lead, every empty bottle of whiskey, every back-alley ambush. Every slow step on the path that led me all the way from my run-down little office to my current predicament: tied to chair in a seedy hotel that had, frankly, seen better days. You could call it destiny, or fate, or just plain bad luck, but all I knew was, this all began the day she walked out of my door and didn't come back.</p><p>It started with Esther Figglesworth.</p><p>And as I stared down the barrel of the gun held sure and steady in her dainty little hands, I had to admit, the thought crossed my mind.</p><p>Maybe it was also gonna end with her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Way It Ends

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Gryffens](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gryffens/gifts).



The whiskey hit the back of my throat like a two-by-four to the head. It was a sad commentary on the kind of life I led that I was familiar enough with both to make the comparison. The liquor was as rough as the rope tying my wrists and ankles to the hard wooden chair, and it burned all the way down.

Just the way I liked it.

I half-closed my eyes, all the better to savour the sensation. God knew it was the closest I was likely to get to pleasure any time soon. Unfortunately, my meditation was abruptly cut short.

"Excuse me, Goldilocks. I did not say you could have a nap."

"Well, I have been running kinda short on sleep lately," I said, flashing a lopsided smile at Big Vik, the man who'd so rudely interrupted my 'me' time. "Maybe if you let me catch forty winks, it might improve my memory."

"You said you were thirsty," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "I kindly let you have a drink, on the understanding that you would then talk. If you're not going to abide by those terms, we can always re-open door number one..."

He nodded to the men flanking me, and the world abruptly tilted sharply before the back of my head smacked into the floor hard enough to make me see stars. Coming on top of all the other bumps and bruises, it was almost enough for me to end up tasting the same swallow of whiskey twice. But with a couple of deep breaths and a lot of willpower, I managed to avoid that particular indignity.

"Door number two is fine," I said, nonchalantly. Well, as nonchalantly as possible for someone tied to a chair that had been tipped over onto its back. "But you can't blame a girl for trying."

"You will find that there is no limit to the number things I can blame you for," Vik murmured. "Nor the lengths to which I can go to exact retribution." He was probably aiming for low and menacing but, honestly, it actually came out sounding rather camp. Maybe it was the plummy tones of his very English accent.

He must have given another signal that I didn't see, because the room swung right-side up again. One of his goons leaned in close, adjusting my bindings.

"Don't piss him off any more than you already have," he whispered, and it sounded like a warning, rather than a threat. "He's in a hell of a mood today."

Huh. Interesting.

I recognised the voice: Cauliflower Joe, the guy who obligingly tipped the whiskey I asked for down my throat. I think he used to be a boxer or something. Certainly, his ears were crinkled and swollen, perhaps the result of one or two too many blows to the head. I assumed that was the reason for his sobriquet.

Cauliflower Joe was actually a pretty nice guy, as hired thugs went.

His boss, though. That was a whole different story. And I already knew it wasn't going to have a happy ending.

"Comfortable?" Vik asked, the word edged with sarcasm so sharp it's a wonder he didn't cut himself.

I tried to shrug, grimacing when the motion was brought up short.

"I've been better. Maybe if you loosen these ropes a little..."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Cauliflower Joe shaking his head sadly. Yeah, well. I gotta be who I gotta be. And everyone knows that Olivia Dunham, PI, couldn't hold back a wisecrack if her life depended on it.

Which, well, it just might.

"Miss Dunham, you are *trying* my *patience*." Vik practically spat out the words, his impeccable vowels slipping a little, betraying a hint of his New York roots.

Yeah, Vikram Chakrabarti, AKA Big Vik, Big Bhangra (personally, I suspected he was overcompensating for something), or Doc Bollywood, was as English as I was. But, despite his airs and graces, he was also a dangerous man. A very dangerous man.

Maybe it was time for me to stop needling him.

"Okay, okay," I said, quickly. "I said I'd talk and I will. Hell, I'll even sing if you want me to. I do a cracking Little Orphan Annie."

"That will *not* be necessary," he sniffs. "Just tell me what I want to know, and there'll be no need for any further... unpleasantness."

"Right. Well. I guess I'd better start at the beginning."

"Start anywhere you like, so long as you *start*."

Oh yeah, I was definitely getting to him. Keeping my smile on the inside and my expression as sober as a judge, I got as comfortable as I could (not very) and cleared my throat.

"It all began with Esther Figglesworth..."

 

* * * * *

 

"Esther, honey, just listen to me." I held my arms out in a vaguely placating gesture, trying for winsome and adorable. All it got me was a glare that could curdle milk. (And, well, kinda turned me on, but that was a whole different story.)

"I'm *done* listening," she said, heels click-clacking angrily on the (cracked and uneven) parquet floor of my office.

(Yeah, her heels sounded angry. Hell, everything about her in that moment was angry, from the hard-edged glitter in her eyes to the tension in every line and curve of her body. It was *glorious*.)

She crossed the floor to dump another armload of stuff into the rapidly-filling box perched precariously on the edge of her desk.

"And I'm done watching you drink yourself into a stupor every night. Or get dragged into yet another game of poker you can't afford to lose. Or ignore yet another batch of 'final demand' notices. If you want to roll all the way into the gutter, then fine, but you are *not* going to drag me there with you."

"But-"

"No buts!" She held up a hand forbiddingly. "I don't want to hear any more of your pathetic excuses."

"They're not excuses," I protested. "It's just that business is a little thin on the ground right now. I have been looking..."

She snorted disparagingly, a surprisingly robust noise from someone so apparently delicate and ladylike.

"Yes, in every seedy bar and dive this side of the river. And a few more on the other side for good measure."

"I can't help it if that's where the people who hire someone like me tend to hang out."

"Ha!"

Not even bothering to glare at me, she grabbed a few more items from around my office, seemingly at random, somehow managing to fit them all in the box.

"Esther?" No reply. I attempted a pout. "Sugar Plum?"

If looks could kill, I would have dropped down dead right on that very spot. But, as it was, they couldn't and I didn't.

It only felt like I was dying.

Apparently done ransacking my office, Esther picked up the box and strode briskly to the door, where she paused just long enough to make me hope she'd changed her mind. But all she did was look at me over her shoulder.

"Goodbye, Miss Dunham," she said softly, and I think that's the moment when I knew, really knew, that she was serious. That there was no fixing things this time. And damn if that didn't feel just like a punch in the gut. It left me so winded that I couldn't even say goodbye. All I could do was watch as she sashayed down the corridor and out of my life.

And then it was too late.

 

* * * * *

 

"How is this in any way relevant to the matter at hand?" Vik broke in, impatience pinching his features.

"Context," I said, placatingly. "It provides the necessary context so you can fully understand and appreciate the finer details of everything that happened afterwards."

"Hmm." He didn't sound overly convinced, but at least he wasn't having me roughed up any more. Small mercies. "So, what happened next?"

"Next?" I sighed heavily. "The finest dame I ever knew -- and the best damn assistant on this earth -- had just left for good. What do you think came next? I hit the bottle. Hard. And the bottle hit back..."

 

* * * * *

 

Without Esther around to haul me bodily back from the edge of oblivion, the descent of Olivia Dunham wasn't so much a slide as a plummet. God alone -- or, more likely, the other guy -- knew how I managed to make it out the other side alive, but somehow I did. And when I finally surfaced from what was, believe me gentlemen, a bender of truly *epic* proportions, it was to find that I had nothing left.

Worse than nothing, in fact.

Turned out that I'd managed to accumulate a not-insignificant amount of debt. And by 'not-insignificant,' I mean pretty damned significant indeed. The amount of money I owed, I couldn't have hoped to pay it off even while I was still solvent. And now? Forget about it. And as the people I owed that money to... You've heard the expression 'hard-nosed businessmen?' Well, these particular gentlemen -- and I used the term loosely -- must have had noses made of solid diamond.

 

* * * * *

 

"You're talking about the Watchers, right?"

I frowned at Vik.

"Are you gonna let me tell this my way, or are you gonna keep interrupting? Because you're kinda throwing off my rhythm here." I shook my head. "I bet you always skip to the end of books as well."

He looked like he wanted to say something or, more likely, give another nod to his goons. Somehow he managed to hold back, merely gesturing imperiously to me.

"Continue," he ordered.

 

* * * * *

 

I was talking, of course, about the Watchers.

I didn't know why they called themselves that and, honestly, I didn't much care. Word on the street was that they started out as part of Massive Dynamic's security division, but then they decided to strike out on their own. There was a persistent rumour going around that they'd all been... enhanced in some way; implanted with tech so advanced it wasn't even illegal yet. The other word on the street was that you didn't want to cross them. Ever. It didn't matter how far you ran, or how many times you changed your name. The Watchers would find you, and they would make an example of you.

All in all, it wasn't looking good for me.

I'd certainly had better days.

So, I couldn't run, and I certainly couldn't pay what I owed. I kinda figured that was it for me. All she wrote. The end of the line. The last hurrah. The-

 

* * * * *

 

"Ow!"

I swear I could feel the bones of my wrist grinding together. I glowered at Halitosis Sam, the second of the men standing either side of my chair. (Alright, he didn't actually go by 'Halitosis Sam.' But after getting up close and personal with him, I could vouch that the moniker was definitely deserved.)

"Okay, okay, I'm getting to the point. Jeez. Haven't you ever heard of poetic license?"

 

* * * * *

 

So, things were looking pretty damn bleak. But, much to my utter disbelief, there turned out to be a light at the end of the tunnel. And, for once, it wasn't an oncoming train.

"We have a proposition for you, Miss Dunham."

I'd been dozing, off and on, slumped in the battered chair that was the only piece of real furniture I still owned. (Figured. I'd been trying to get rid of that chair pretty much since the first time I sat in it. Turned out that not even the bailiffs were willing to cart it off.) So at first I thought I was dreaming. But then I woke up a little bit more and I realised that I wasn't.

There were Watchers standing in my office.

That realisation woke up the rest of the way better than being dunked in an ice-bath. (Again, something that my particular lifestyle has afforded me the 'opportunity' to experience.)

Naturally, I continued to play possum, surreptitiously reaching for my piece beneath the trenchcoat I was using as a blanket. I actually thought I was doing pretty well, but then the Watcher spoke again. (Or it was a different one. Hard to tell with those guys, sometimes.)

"We know you are awake, Miss Dunham, so you might as well stop pretending. And your weapon will not help you."

I knew that these guys were supposed to have all the emotional expression of a brick, but I could swear that this one sounded distinctly... smug.

Well, smug or not, I still settled my hand around the comforting weight of my pistol before opening my eyes and sitting up.

"Good morning gentlemen," I said, adding. "And I use the term loosely. What can I do for you?"

I didn't bother asking anything trivial like: what were they doing in my place? How did they get in? Were they here to kill me and string my entrails up like Christmas lights? Y'know, inconsequential things like that.

"That is why we are here," said one of them, presumably the one in charge. "We want you to do something for us. And then, in exchange, we will do something for you."

I was immediately suspicious. Not like I wasn't already, of course, but my hackles rose so far they almost reached my hat.

I narrowed my eyes.

"Like what?"

"We will forgive your debt to us."

Okay, no lie, my first reaction then was an overwhelming feeling of relief. Maybe I wasn't going to die today after all. But then common sense kicked in, reminding me that things that seemed too good to be true generally were. And he hadn't yet told me what they wanted from me in return.

"What do I have to do?"

"We want you to... acquire some items for us."

I raised an eyebrow.

"I think you have the wrong girl, gentlemen. I'm not a thief."

"If we wanted a thief, we would have... acquired the services of a thief. This task, however, requires someone of your..." He looked me up and down, and if he'd been anyone else, I think he would've made an expression of distaste. "Dubious talents."

If he was trying to piss me off, he could hardly have done a better job. But Mama Dunham didn't raise any fools, so despite my natural inclination otherwise, I kept my irritation to myself.

"Go on," I said, cool as a cucumber.

"Some items have..." Again, he paused, giving that not-quite expression of distaste. "Left our possession. Recently. We want them back. You will locate and retrieve them for us."

Reading between the lines, here: someone had stolen from the watchers. Apparently successfully. This was interesting information.

I considered my options for a moment or two. It didn't take that long -- I really didn't have all that many. Reaching a decision, I put my piece away and pulled out a notebook and pen.

"What can you tell me about these items?"

The boss-man held out his hand to one of his minions, who handed him a file. God only knew where he'd been keeping it.

"This will tell you everything you need to know."

I took the file and started to leaf through it. Much as I hated to admit it, they'd actually done a pretty good job of summarising the answers to what would have been my first few questions. Descriptions of the items. A putative timeline of events. Not the whole story, of course, but I pretty much expected that.

But there was still one very important thing I wanted to know.

"Why do you need me for this? What's stopping you tracking these things -- and whoever stole them -- down yourself?"

The boss-man just stared at me with his piercing, inscrutable stare. A lesser woman than me might have felt exposed and vulnerable, being scrutinised like that, like a bug under a microscope. Me? I just tossed the old hairy eyeball right back at him.

"We have our reasons," he said, eventually. "And you do not need to know them. The only thing you need to know is that doing this will spare you from our wrath. For now."

Well, okay then. That told me, I supposed.

"About that. There are a few details I want to clarify..."

We dickered back and forth for a bit until I was well, not satisfied, not completely, but at least possessed of a more complete understanding of the terms of our agreement. And then they left.

So. I guessed I had a new case.

 

* * * * *

 

"The devices," Vik breathed, accent slipping in his obvious excitement. His eyes glittered almost feverishly, and he bounced a little on the balls of his feet. It should have made him look ridiculous. Laughable, even. But instead I found myself feeling uneasy. More than anything else, he looked... desperate. And desperate men did desperate things.

Not that I let him see my unease, of course.

I raised an eyebrow.

"What about them?"

"Their use, their purpose. What did the Watchers tell you about them?"

"Not a damned thing." I eyed him narrowly. "Just what was in that file. But I digress."

 

* * * * *

 

Once the Watchers had left, what I wanted to do more than anything else in the world was to crawl back inside a bottle. But I had a case to work. A case that, right now, was my only lifeline. As in, solving it was the only thing I could think of that would keep me alive and in one piece. And I didn't get the sense that my, ah, employers would look too kindly on procrastination.

So I got right to it.

If you're lucky, or if you're in a movie, clues come to you. People fall all over themselves to confess their secrets, and the shoeshine guy on the corner just happens to tell you about something he saw that'll crack the whole case wide open. Unfortunately, I lived in the real world. That meant I had to do things the hard way: by beating feet.

And occasionally beating heads, but that came later.

I made the rounds, hitting up every fence and information broker I knew. All the ones who'd talk to me, at any rate. Fortunately, I'd managed to talk the Watchers into fronting me a little walking-around money, which came in handy for greasing a few palms here and there. It helped.

All in all, I managed to scare up a few leads, but nothing conclusive. Nothing solid.

And then I got my big break.

 

* * * * *

 

"Well?" Vik gestured impatiently for me to continue. Honestly, for someone who was supposed to have such a flare for the theatrical, he really didn't seem to have much appreciation for dramatic tension. "What was your big break?"

And, there's my straight line.

I leaned back in the chair, giving him a rueful, lopsided grin.

"Believe it or not, it came from a shoeshine guy."

I watched Vik's expression covertly as I talked, laying out the sequence of events as clearly and logically as I could. Sure, I hammed it up a little here and there. I mean, if you're going to tell a story, you might as well make it interesting, right? But I mostly let the facts speak for themselves.

Lucky for me, Vik didn't exactly have much of a poker face, at least not one that held any particular challenge for me. I could read his reactions like he was holding them up on a sign. Scepticism at first, then excitement, then eagerness.

And, underneath it all, that terrible, raw desperation.

It was probably best not to think of that right now.

I continued my account.

"I guess Tommy didn't believe I really wasn't interested in his, ah, extra-curricular activities. Or he just didn't like me sniffing around his club, making his clientele uneasy. Or maybe he just didn't like my face. Anyway, whatever his reasons, he had a few of his guys escort me off the premises. And make it crystal clear that I wasn't welcome there."

I smiled wryly.

"Something like that could give a girl a complex. I'm usually so good at making friends." Vik made a disbelieving noise. The louse. But he didn't say anything comprised of actual words, so I kept going. "Anyway, there wasn't much point in pressing the issue, so I gathered what was left of my dignity and prepared to exit stage left. At least I could take consolation in the fact that there was no one around to witness this particular ignominy. Or so I thought..."

 

* * * * *

 

"Olivia?"

I wasn't exactly at my best right then, so I didn't recognise the voice right away. The words 'what's it to you?' started to form on my lips, but they died unspoken when I looked up and saw...

"Esther!"

I wasn't too proud to admit that I just stood there and stared for a moment or two. I mean, I didn't think I was ever going see her again. But here she was, standing in an alleyway behind the Blue Moon Bar and Lounge, looking for all the world like an angel sent down from above. My guardian angel, maybe.

"What happened?" she asked softly, her face worried as she looked me up and down. I got the sense that she was cataloguing and indexing every single one of the various scrapes and contusions that must have marked my skin. But then her face hardened. "Who did you piss off this time?"

I tried for a smile. It hurt.

"Would you believe I'm just an innocent victim in all of this?"

"No. No, I wouldn't."

We stared at each other for a moment more and then, to my surprise, her flintlike eyes seemed to soften a little. Just a little.

"I can't just leave you here like this," she said, her tone brisk and practical. No hint of sentiment to be found; just stating a fact. "Where's your car?"

I was feeling fuzzy enough around the edges that I had to think about it for a moment before I could give her directions, and the drive back to my office/current abode was a bit of a blur. The next thing I remembered for certain was standing just inside the door, leaning partly on Esther and partly against the door.

"What happened to the furniture?" she asked.

I shrugged, or tried to, wobbling a little and clutching at Esther for balance.

"Bailiffs," I said. Short and sweet.

It must have been enough of an explanation, because she didn't ask anything else. Not then, anyway. She just manhandled me over to the battered desk chair, dug out the first aid supplies from wherever they were hiding and set about treating my injuries.

"Take off your shirt," she ordered.

I couldn't hold back a smile.

"Why, Miss Figglesworth," I breathed. "Are you getting saucy with me?"

The look she gave me was definitely not amused.

"I need to make sure your ribs aren't cracked."

"If you say so."

I winked at her and did as she said, stripping off the garment as slowly and sensually as I could. I was mostly just trying to get a rise out of her, but when she looked at me... Damn if all the old heat didn't flare right back up. And when she actually put her hands on my skin, it *really* felt like things were heating up.

We didn't really talk much as she played nurse. My ribs weren't broken, as it turned out. And I probably didn't have a concussion. Probably.

I certainly felt a lot more focused than I had in the car.

When she'd finished, she set the first aid paraphernalia aside and just stood there, looking at me, looking at her. The air felt charged, electric, like it does just before a storm. I couldn't seem to catch my breath, and from the look in her eyes, she was feeling the same way.

I didn't know who moved first, but all of a sudden we were kissing. Passionately. Desperately. And in that moment, it was like she'd never gone away.

Like she'd never left me.

"You know," I murmured breathlessly, smiling against her lips. "I still have a mattress."

She didn't say anything at first, just kissed me hard and fast, sliding her tongue against mine in a way that sent shivers down my spine. When she pulled away I felt a flare of disappointment, expected her to head for the door. But she didn't.

"If you have a mattress," she said. "Why are we both trying to fit on this awful chair?"

My smile felt like it was almost going to split my face in two.

"I have no idea," I drawled back. "Let's fix that, shall we?"

For her answer, she simply drew me to my feet and claimed my mouth with hers. 

It was a good answer.

We made slow progress across the room; mouths locked together, hands working feverishly to free each other's bodies from the confines of their clothing. We left a trail of discarded garments like scattered flower petals, marking our path all the way to the mattress. Once there, we broke apart, flushed and breathless, and simply looked at each other for a timeless moment.

"You're beautiful," I said softly.

She met my gaze with eyes that suddenly seemed as dark and fathomless as the sea, large and liquid with desire.

And, because she was Esther Figglesworth, that glinted with challenge.

"Show me," she breathed.

And I did.

 

* * * * *

 

"I don't think we need to hear any more about this," Vik said quickly. He sounded a little... tense.

"I don't know, Boss," said Halitosis Sam. "You wouldn't want to miss anything relevant."

Vik gave him a sharp look, and then turned his attention back to me.

"Skip to the next part that's actually germane to the matter at hand."

I thought about messing with him some more, just for giggles, but decided against it. Believe it or not, my survival instinct hadn't entirely been replaced by my snark reflex.

Despite what certain people (Esther) would have you believe.

And, speaking of certain people...

 

* * * * *

 

Afterwards, we lay there under the too-thin blankets, huddled together for warmth. And maybe just because. It felt... good. It felt just like it used to.

Like before she left.

And yes, this was relevant, because it meant that when Esther started asking questions about my current case, it didn't feel like anything out of the ordinary. So I told her what she wanted to know.

Well, maybe not all of it. I guessed there was a reason why Esther sometimes accused me of being paranoid. But I told her enough.

Apparently.

Anyway, eventually I drifted off to sleep. Best night's sleep I'd had in a while, as a matter of fact. When I woke up, Esther was gone.

And so was my case file. Including the information the Watchers had given me.

 

* * * * *

 

Now it was my turn to level a hard look at Vik.

"I don't suppose you'd know anything about that, would you?" I asked softly, like I didn't already know the answer.

"Maybe you shouldn't have taken her for granted. Yet again," he said, and his whole being seemed to radiate sheer, unadulterated smugness. The look didn't particularly do him any favours. Maybe if he'd been a little taller... "You were quite correct in your earlier statement, by the way. Miss Esther Figglesworth is a remarkably fine woman. Or, lady, I should say. Far too fine to... stagnate under the likes of you."

I raised an eyebrow at that.

"Oh, I don't know," I drawled. "The last time she was under me, she didn't exactly seem to be *stagnating*."

Vik flushed deeply. Halitosis Sam snorted with not-very-well-suppressed laughter, earning himself a glower from his boss.

"I realise that you have a natural affinity for the gutter, Miss Dunham," he said stiffly. "But I would appreciate it if we could keep our discourse at a somewhat higher level than that. I was referring, of course, to Miss Figglesworth's professional development. She has a remarkable mind. With the right guidance, the world itself could be within her grasp."

Admiration was clear in his voice. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. It seemed that Esther had acquired another fan. I didn't know how she did it.

Okay, maybe that wasn't exactly true.

"So, you sent her to me to relieve me of my secrets." I kept my voice flat, making it a statement rather than a question. "Well, she had remarkably good timing."

"That was the beauty of it," Vik crowed, drawing himself up to his full height. What there was of it. "Believe me, that encounter owed nothing to coincidence. You see, the proprietor of the Blue Moon Bar and Lounge happens to owe me a favour or two."

I raised both eyebrows. The revelation seemed to warrant it.

"You had Tommy have his goons rough me up?"

"Precisely!" He nodded vigorously, bouncing a little on the balls of his feet again. It kinda made him look like a hyperactive hamster. "Miss Figglesworth's suggestion, actually."

"Was it now?" I murmured.

That was certainly interesting to know. I filed the information away for later.

"Well, not in so many words," he amended. "But she was the one who suggested that her approach would be more effective if you were in a state of... vulnerability at the time. But none of this is important."

"It's important to me."

"Yes, well." He smiled thinly. "I'm afraid your wants and needs are somewhat less than relevant right now. What *I* need to know is..." He leaned forward a little, as if that would bring him closer to the knowledge he so clearly craved. "What were the things you *didn't* tell the delightful Miss Figglesworth?"

"Who says I didn't tell her everything?"

"You did. Not five minutes ago." His eyes narrowed. "Do not test my patience any further, Miss Dunham."

"Okay, fine." I sighed heavily, slumping a little in my seat. Well, as much as my bonds would let me, which wasn't that much. It was more about the attitude, really; a visual indication of all the fight just going right out me. Well, maybe not *all* of it, but enough for this. I shot Vik a look heavy with betrayal and wounded pride. "If Esther's with you, I guess there's no real point in holding out now."

"Indeed." He was back to looking pleased with himself, and maybe more than a little impatient. "Well, there's no time like the present."

That was my cue.

Without further ado, I set about telling him what he wanted to know. I laid it all out for him, clear and logical and remarkably free of snark.

And when I was done talking, all I could do was sit there and wait for his reaction.

"Fascinating," he breathed, his gaze distant. "You are sure about this?"

I did roll my eyes that time.

"Of course I'm not sure. This kind of stuff isn't exactly my area of expertise."

"No, I suppose not," he said snidely. "It doesn't involve alcohol."

"There's no need for that kind of pettiness," I grumbled quietly.

"Very well. Let us resume the thread of this sorry tale. What happened after your encounter with Miss Figglesworth?"

"Not a whole lot, actually. I tracked down and acquired some of the things I was looking for. I didn't manage to track down the person or persons who took them in the first place." I gave Vik a jaundiced look. "Maybe I would've done, given a bit more time, but I guess we'll never know now. You had your goons haul me in before I got the chance."

Not that I was bitter or anything.

"Don't forget: I also had my *employees* retrieve all the devices you'd managed to accumulate, so those are now in my possession," Vik said triumphantly. "All in all, this has been a most profitable day for me."

"Yeah, well, excuse me if I don't congratulate you. I have to ask, though: why now?"

He tilted his head.

"Now?"

"Why'd you grab me now? If you'd waited a bit longer, I could've had the rest of the 'devices,' as you call them, in hand. Plus, you might have been able to follow me to the person who stole them from the Watchers. So, what happened? You get impatient?"

"Nothing so banal as that." He sounded indulgent.

That... wasn't a good sign. If you've been captured by a gang boss and he suddenly starts indulging you, that generally means one of two things. Option number one: he could be trying to recruit you. Mmmm, nope. Vik had made it perfectly clear what he thought of me and my weaknesses. Option number two: he's about to ice you.

Yeah, I knew which way my luck was running.

"So, what then?"

Maybe if I could just keep him talking...

"Believe it or not" -- whatever it was, he sounded like he didn't -- "you currently appear to be the Watchers' best lead on finding the person who successfully stole from them. Personally, I suspect one of their own. It would explain why they are unable to make use of their usual tricks. I do not think for one moment that they are leaving you, if you will pardon the pun, unobserved."

I raised an eyebrow.

"What, you think they're using me as a stalking horse?"

"Just so," Vik said, looking surprised, like it was obvious. I guessed it sort of was. "Letting you get closer to your target meant also letting the *Watchers* get closer. That simply would not do. So, I had to stop you."

"By kidnapping me?"

I was already pretty sure I knew where this was going, but I had to ask the question. Anything to keep him talking, buy as much time as I could.

He shrugged.

"I was initially planning on going for the expedient option: a bullet to the head. Actually, more likely several of them. You have something of a reputation for being too stubborn to die." "

"So, what changed your mind?"

Somehow, I managed to keep my voice light and casual, like it wasn't my death we were talking about here.

"It was actually Miss Figglesworth," he said. He eyed me curiously, like I was some kind of exotic creature he was about to vivisect. I hoped the comparison didn't prove too be too on the nose. "It seems she has some regard for your skills as a detective. She persuaded me that there was a chance you may have discovered something of use, and so it was worth interrogating you." He smiled thinly. "And if you didn't, or if you proved too intractable for it to be worth the effort, well then, I would have lost nothing but time."

"So, was it worth it? Or do you wish you'd gone with the bullets-to-the-head approach?"

Maybe it wasn't entirely wise to address the subject of my imminent demise, but there weren't exactly a plethora of other conversational gambits available.

Vik actually seemed to consider his answer.

"I believe, on balance, the information you have provided will prove worth the effort of extracting it."

"Oh, I'm *so* glad this hasn't been a waste of your precious time."

"Besides," he continued, as if I hadn't spoken. "Occasionally indulging one's associates and employees has been shown to have beneficial effects on morale."

My eyebrows shot up.

"Morale? Seriously?"

He nodded.

"I assure you that it is a serious concern, even in an organisation like mine." He considered for a moment. "Perhaps even especially in an organisation like mine."

"I... see."

He chuckled, but the humour didn't quite seem to reach his eyes. I tensed a little, despite myself. This was it, then. The denouement.

"No, Miss Dunham, I rather doubt you do." He raised his voice slightly. "Miss Figglesworth. You may come in now."

I heard footsteps behind me. They were a little muffled by the threadbare carpet, but I would recognise them anywhere, even if Vik hadn't just announced her by name.

I gave a lopsided smile.

"Hello, Esther. Fancy meeting you here."

"Olivia," she replied, her voice tight.

She crossed into my field of view, moving to stand next to Vik.

"You look good," I said softly, because, well, I wasn't dead yet.

She studied me for a moment before replying.

"You look the same as always. Half-cut and up to your neck in trouble."

I shrugged as best as I could.

"Guilty."

"As pleasant as this reunion obviously is," Vik broke in, flicking a glance my way, but focusing the bulk of his attention on Esther. "Time is ticking on and I have experiments to run. I think it's time we brought this whole unpleasant interlude to its long-overdue conclusion."

"Great!" I said, my tone bright with false cheer. "If you'll just order one of your goons to let me loose, I'll get right out of your hair."

"I'm afraid it isn't that simple, Miss Dunham. I can't just let you run straight back to the Watchers."

"I could-"

"And I can't trust any promises you might give about keeping your mouth shut. No, I'm afraid the only way you're leaving here today is feet first." He... didn't sound particularly sorry about that. I was starting to think he didn't like me much. "Joe," he said, the tone of his voice making the word an order.

Cauliflower Joe stepped forward and drew his gun. I braced myself, but rather than pointing it at me, he held it out, grip first.

To Esther.

She looked at the gun, and then at Vik, her brow creasing in puzzlement.

"I don't understand," she said slowly. "You want me to...?"

"Think of it as an act of closure," Vik said. His voice was kindly, but there was something hard and cold in his eyes. "An opportunity to say goodbye to your old life." His smile made me think of sharks and of other things with too many, too-sharp teeth. "And to prove yourself in this one."

Oh.

Oh, so that's how it was. Vik admired Esther, but he didn't trust her. Not yet. But if she killed me...

Of course, if she refused, that wouldn't save me. Vik would just have one of his goons do the deed. I flattered myself that Joe would have a twinge of conscience over it, but I bet Halitosis Sam would pull the trigger without even blinking. And, in that situation, I doubted that Esther would long outlive me. In fact, I'd give it seconds at the most.

Esther's face was an inscrutable mask, giving no hint about what was going through her mind. Slowly, she reached out and accepted the gun.

Vik started to smile, only for the expression to turn into a frown as she ejected and checked the clip, checked the pipe, pointed the gun at the ground and dry-fired it.

The click of the trigger seemed oddly loud to my ears, perhaps given greater weight by the knowledge that, if Vik had his way, this would be the gun that killed me.

Even so, I had to hold in a smile. Clever girl, Esther. Apparently her thoughts were running along similar lines to mine.

If Vik really wasn't sure which way Esther would jump when it came down to brass tacks, the safest thing to do would have been to hand her an unloaded or non-functional gun. Or maybe one loaded with blanks. Y'know, just in case. But after she'd completed her little examination of the gun, Esther just as calmly put it back together again and slid the clip back into place.

Maybe Vik wasn't as paranoid as I'd thought. Maybe.

"Are you quite satisfied?" he asked Esther, sounding a little snippy.

"I don't like firing weapons I don't know," she said matter-of-factly. "But everything seems to be in order. Should I do it here, or did you want to move her somewhere else?"

Wow. She didn't try to protest at all. Not even a token amount.

I wasn't sure how I felt about that.

"Here is fine," Vik said, looking pleased. "This room is soundproofed. Anyway, it's about time I had it redecorated." He turned his gaze towards me, and his smile turned sharp-edged and vicious. "I believe this is goodbye, Miss Dunham. I would say it's been a pleasure, but why sully these last few moments with an untruth?"

"Oh, I don't know, Vik," I murmured. "It ain't over 'till the fat lady sings."

"Defiant to the last, eh? I suppose I should have expected no less. But this is the end of the line for you. I say again, Miss Dunham: goodbye."

I was hoping he'd just leave Esther to it, but no such luck. Apparently he and his henchmen were planning to watch. Which is pretty much what I'd expected, but you couldn't blame a girl for hoping.

"Miss Figglesworth?" Vik gestured politely. "If you would be so kind?"

"Very well, Dr Chakrabarti."

Turning to face me, she raised the gun.

Time seemed to slow to a crawl, my thoughts racing frantically.

Esther Figglesworth.

It all came back to Esther Figglesworth. Every lead, every empty bottle of whiskey, every back-alley ambush. Every slow step on the path that led me all the way from my run-down little office to my current predicament. You could call it destiny, or fate, or just plain bad luck, but all I knew was, this all began the day she walked out of my door and didn't come back.

It started with Esther Figglesworth.

And as I stared down the barrel of the gun held sure and steady in her dainty little hands, I had to admit, the thought crossed my mind.

Maybe it was also gonna end with her.

 

* * * * *

 

"Olivia?"

I wasn't exactly at my best right then, but of course I recognised the voice right away.

"Esther."

I turned to face her, keeping my smile in check only long enough to make sure she was alone. I didn't even care that smiling hurt, thanks to Tommy's goons. For a moment or two, I just stood there, feasting my eyes on the unexpected but very welcome sight of her.

But then reality set in.

"What are you doing here? Did anyone see you?" I asked, keeping my voice low just in case any of Tommy's goons were loitering within earshot. "We don't want Vik to find out you've been fraternising with the enemy."

She stepped in close, matching my tone.

"Dr Chakrabarti sent me here," she said, her tone drier than the desert air. "I'm supposed to be seducing all your secrets out of you."

"I see." Well, wasn't *that* interesting? And tantalising... I chuckled softly. "Well, I wouldn't want to stand in the way of your new career, would I? Seduce away, darling."

She grinned at me, but there was concern in her eyes as she looked me up and down. I got the sense that she was cataloguing and indexing every single one of the various scrapes and contusions that must have marked my skin.

"Are you okay? Do you need to lean on me?"

"Just bruises and scrapes," I reassured her, and then winked. "Nothing that will matter in the face of your feminine wiles."

She rolled her eyes, but they crinkled at the corners, a clear indication of her not-so-secret amusement.

"Well, no one's seducing anyone standing out here in this, frankly, rather disgusting little alleyway. Where's your car?"

I was feeling fuzzy enough around the edges that I had to think about it for a moment before I could give her directions, and the drive back to my office/current abode was a bit of a blur. The next thing I remembered for certain was standing just inside the door, leaning partly on Esther and partly against the door.

"What happened to the furniture?" she asked.

I shrugged, or tried to, wobbling a little and clutching at Esther for balance.

Okay, maybe I didn't need to clutch her quite so tightly as I did.

"I'm supposed to be in hock up to my eyeballs, remember? Bailiffs took it."

"Really?"

"Well, technically. Jazz owed me a favour, so she sent a couple of her boys around to make it look good. My stuff's stored in one of her lock-ups."

"I see."

"So," I drawled, cupping her cheek with one hand. "About this seduction..."

"First aid first," she said firmly. "Then we'll see."

"But-"

"No arguments."

She followed that up with a kiss, silencing any further protest I might have made.

Oh well. I supposed I couldn't really complain.

When she'd finished, she set the first aid paraphernalia aside and just stood there, looking at me, looking at her. The air felt charged, electric, like it does just before a storm. I couldn't seem to catch my breath, and from the look in her eyes, she was feeling the same way.

I didn't know who moved first, but all of a sudden we were kissing. Passionately. Desperately. And in that moment, it was like she'd never gone away.

Like we'd never started this whole stupid charade.

 

* * * * *

 

No.

No, I didn't think so.

Not like this.

Like I said to Vik, it wasn't over yet. I still had a couple of aces up my sleeves.

"Do you have any last words, Olivia?"

Esther's voice was soft, almost gentle, but the sound of it went right through me.

Suddenly, I found myself smiling. No, not smiling: grinning. I looked her right in her big brown eyes and grinned like a loon.

"Yeah," I said brightly. "Flash bang."

Distantly, I was aware of Vik starting to say something, but then I was moving, throwing my weight over to the side as hard as I could, rocking the chair back on its rickety legs. All the way back, until...  
Ah, there it went.

Even braced for impact, hitting the ground wasn't fun. Eh, I'd had worse. Anyway, I didn't exactly have time to dwell on it. The chair made a loud, satisfying crack beneath my weight, echoing like the gunshot that was conspicuous by its absence. It didn't fall to pieces, more's the pity, but that wasn't the point. The point was-

BANG!

"Freeze, or the boss gets it."

-to be a distraction.

Way to go, Esther.

Silence fell like a ten tonne rock, but that might have been due to the fact that someone had just fired an unsilenced weapon in an enclosed area. More importantly, there was a notable absence of any goon-shaped avalanche descending on my person.

I took advantage of opportunity and freed myself from the chair. It proved to be surprisingly easy, but by the time I was done, my ears had stopped ringing enough to make out what Vik was spluttering.

"But- But they were fakes. Blanks. I made them myself. They just looked real."

Huh. Apparently he was that paranoid after all.

It just wasn't paranoid enough.

"I was *watching* you," he continued, and his accent didn't so much slip as tumble headlong down a flight of stairs. "You couldn't have switched clips then. *No* one's that good."

"Oh, I don't know," I drawled, getting to my feet. "Esther *is* very good with her hands. You said it yourself -- she's a very special lady."

The lady in question shot me a brief black look before returning her attention to Vik.

"Hands behind your back," she snapped. "Both of you."

Vik started to obey, seemingly automatically, and then paused, frowning.

"But there are three of us," Halitosis Sam said, looking confused.

"Joe?" Esther said.

And Joe stepped forward, reaching into his jacket and pulling out... handcuffs? With quick, professional movements, he cuffed his boss and colleague -- former boss and colleague now, and pushed them up against the wall.

Well, that certainly explained a few things.

Like, why he'd loosened the ropes tying me to the chair under the guise of tightening them. The biggest question was: had Esther suborned him before or after Vik had decided I needed to go?

Personally, my money was on before. Esther was a big believer in preparing for any eventuality.

There was still something niggling at me, though, nagging at the back of my mind...

"Want me to frisk 'em?" he asked her.

"Please," she said. "Give anything interesting to Olivia."

"Nice to know you haven't forgotten me," I murmured.

She snorted, still covering Vik and Sam with the gun.

"Like that's going to happen."

"Wait," says Vik, sounding betrayed. "So this was all a set up? Miss Figglesworth, you were a... a plant? A mole? And Joe? You too?"

I think he actually sounded more upset about Joe than about Esther.

"Doc, what you were doing... It wasn't right. It wasn't what I signed up for."

"So you betrayed me?"

Joe shrugged.

"I prefer to think of it as doing the right thing."

"Always thought you were a bit soft," Sam sneered.

"Enough talking," Esther said. "Joe, would you hurry it up please? We're on a timetable here."

We were?

Curiosity pricked me, but I knew better than to ask about operational matters in front of the enemy. She must have been pretty flustered to have given that much away.

Unless, of course, it was a message.

Joe finished patting down Vik and Sam and came over to hand me the fruits of his labour.

It felt good to be armed again.

The rest of the haul -- mostly from Vik's pockets, I guessed -- I shoved into a coat pocket. Maybe I'd even get to keep some of it long enough to play around with.

"Time to go," Esther said.

"What about them?" I nodded towards Vik and Sam. "Are we just going to leave them here?"

"Arrangements have been made."

"What arrangements?" Vik asked, sounding a little panicked. "What are you going to do? You won't get away with this, you know. I'm an important man. I have important friends. I can-"

"Doc, Doc, Doc," I said. "Are you trying to talk us into just putting a bullet in your head? Because, you know, I'm surprisingly comfortable with that option."

That shut him right up.

We made it out of the room without either man trying anything, something I almost regretted.

Almost.

Once the door was closed and locked securely, sealing the boss and his henchman in, I turned my attention to the two men slumped over the security console outside.

"Your handiwork?" I asked Esther, raising an eyebrow.

"What do you think?" she retorted impatiently. "I could hardly let them sound the alarm."

I cast a professional eye over the two of them. Still alive, but clearly not conscious. No obvious wounds.

"How?"

"A little present from" -- a quick flick of her eyes towards Joe, barely even noticeable -- "a friend."

Ah.

I made a mental note to send Nina a thank you note along with my bill.

My very large bill.

No, my stupendously large bill.

Really, I think Esther and I both went above and beyond for this job. And it wasn't like Massive Dynamic couldn't afford 'stupendously large.'

"So, what now?" Joe wanted to know.

Esther regarded him thoughtfully.

"Now, Olivia and I leave quietly. But I'd like you to stay here."

"What?" His eyes widened. "But the police... I helped you, didn't I? You can't just leave me hanging."

"The police aren't coming."

"What? But you said you were calling the cavalry."

"I did."

"But..." For a moment, he looked thoroughly confused. But then the penny dropped. "Oh." Hot on the heels of realisation came panic, even stronger than a moment ago. "No, you can't do that to me. I won't say anything to anyone about this, I swear."

"It'll be alright, Joe," she said soothingly. "They know how you helped us. They just have some questions for you about Dr Chakrabarti's operation. Then you'll be free to go."

I watched them carefully as Esther tried to calm Joe down and persuade him that this was for the best. It was clear that this approach wasn't working, so I decided to try a different tack.

"Tell you what, why doesn't Joe just tell us what he knows? If it turns out to be anything vital, we can pass it on. Whaddaya think, Joe?"

"Yeah! Yeah, let's do that," he said, nodding vigorously. "But not here. I'll call you, okay?"

"Here's my card." I rooted around inside my pockets until I managed to retrieve a battered square of cardboard. He reluctantly accepted it, tucking it away in one of his own pockets. "Don't you forget, now. I'd hate to have to go looking for you."

"I won't, Miss Dunham, thank you. Now, shall we get out of here? Quickly?"

"By all means." I gestured expansively. "Oh, and Joe?" I leaned in and whispered a few words in one of his battered and crumpled ears, smiling to myself as he stared at me, wide-eyed.

It was always nice to have a theory confirmed.

"Less chatting, more moving," Esther hissed.

"Right behind you, Sugar Plum," I said, sweetly.

Oh, if looks could kill...

 

* * * * *

 

"It won't work." Esther's voice cut right through Nina's words, leaving the CEO blinking in surprise. I guessed she wasn't overly used to being interrupted.

"What do you mean, it won't work?" she asked, looking at Esther like she'd only just noticed her.

"Yes, do explain." The Watcher -- Mr December -- also seemed a little put out. Good. It was about time something disrupted his aura of smug, serene, ineffable equanimity. It was beginning to piss me off. "We have accounted for all the relevant variables. Given the right degree of desperation, anyone would believe-"

"No one would believe for one minute that Olivia would work for someone with Dr Chakrabarti's reputation." Her tone was flat and uncompromising. "It doesn't matter how desperate they think she is."

Silence fell we contemplated Esther's words.

Not for the first time, I wondered why. Why us? And why do it this way? There had to be a better, more effective way of getting the information they wanted. Hell, between the Watchers and Massive Dynamic, they more than had the capability to take the doc's whole operation apart if they wanted to. But apparently they had their reasons. And we didn't need to know what they were.

Well, fine. Whatever. They were paying clients, and they were paying us *a lot* to do things their way, so we would do our best to accommodate them.

But that didn't mean we'd just go along with everything they suggested.

No, if we were going to do this, we were going to do it right.

"She's right Mr D." He hated it when I abbreviated his name. That was why I did it. "The doc would never buy it. 'Fraid I can't be the magician on this one. But..." I deliberately met Esther's eyes, smiling a little. "I can be the lovely assistant."

Mr December's frown deepened.

"I... do not understand."

"It's very simple. You know why stage magicians always seem to have an attractive, barely-dressed woman to help them with their tricks? It's to give the audience something to look at. To make sure they're *not* watching the magician. So I'll go stomping around kicking doors in and asking pointed questions." I smiled modestly at Nina and December. "I'm actually pretty good at that. In the meanwhile, someone else will infiltrate the doc's organisation."

"Who?" asked Nina. She was frowning, but it was a thoughtful expression rather than a forbidding one.

"Me," said Esther, simply.

Mr D raised his eyebrows minutely, deliberately looking Esther up and down.

"A secretary?" he asked disbelievingly. "I don't think-"

"A very capable assistant and a talented investigator in her own right," I broke in before Esther could. I was all for tweaking the Watchers' noses, but that didn't mean I wanted her making enemies of them. She could be quite... caustic when she put her mind to it. "She can do this."

"And if you underestimate me, then there's a good chance the doctor will, too." Esther added, more mildly than I'd feared.

Mr D and Nina exchanged a significant look.

"This could work. I suppose," said Mr D, grudgingly.

I opened my mouth to say something cutting -- yeah, I was a big fat hypocrite when it came to sassing the Watchers -- but Nina got there first, giving him a thin smile.

"Olivia and Miss Figglesworth are very good at their job," she said firmly. "We should listen to their recommendations."

"Look," I said. "I don't know *why* you want to do things this way, but fine." Not really, but I could deal. "You're the client, and you're paying us an obscene amount of money to get it done. So we'll do it. But we need to do it our way. Okay?"

Nina nodded, and I could swear I saw a glimmer of approval in her eyes. After a beat or two, Mr D also gave a nod.

"Very well."

"Good," I said. "So, let's go through this from the top..."

Afterwards, when we were driving away from the Massive Dynamic building, I saw Esther giving me sidelong glances in the mirror.

"What?" I asked, flashing her a crooked smile. "Do I have something in my teeth?"

"There's one flaw you didn't mention," she said.

"Oh?" I kept my tone light, but my stomach twisted a little. I knew what she was going to say, had known it would end up here since the moment she volunteered to infiltrate the organisation of a dangerous criminal.

Frankly, I was almost surprised she'd waited this long.

"It's not like everyone and their dog knows I work for you," she said slowly. "But some people do. And some of those surely know -- or have guessed -- that our relationship is more than strictly business. So if we're going to pull this off..."

She trailed off there, like she was reluctant to say the words. Or like she was already running through stratagems and gambits in her head.

I said it for her.

"We're going to have to break up." I met her eyes in the mirror. "And it will have to be ugly."

 

* * * * *

 

We made it out of Vik's place without incident. It was a credit to Esther's patience that she waited until Joe had parted ways with us before turning to me and asking:

"What did you say to him?"

I shrugged, surreptitiously checking the street for eavesdroppers. Just to be on the safe side, I leaned in close to her to reply.

"I said: 'Give my regards to Broyles. And tell him he owes me big time.' That's all."

Esther blinked at me for a moment, apparently lost for words.

That was pretty much a first.

"He was an undercover cop?"

I shrugged.

"Apparently."

"But what... When... How did you know?"

"I recognised him. Well, his ears. They're a bit of a giveaway. I saw him once, back when I when I was on the force. Wasn't supposed to -- none of us were supposed to have any contact with the undercover guys -- but accidents happen."

"Accidents?" Esther sounded sceptical. I shrugged and flashed her a smile, neither confirming nor denying her accusation. "So, why let on you knew?"

"Who do you think tipped off Massive Dynamic? And I can't believe it was done without Broyles' blessing. Which means Broyles *owes* us for clearing up this mess."

"Huh," Esther said, sounding like the pieces were snapping together inside that steel-trap mind of hers. "I suppose he couldn't do anything officially." She pulled a face. "Dr Chakrabarti was right about having powerful friends."

And this way, Joe at least kept his cover intact. It might hurt his reputation some if it got out that he'd betrayed a boss, but that was better than being tagged as police. Anyway, with only Vik and Sam aware of Joe's apparent about-face, there was a chance not even that would get out. Plus, no doubt Joe had a few contingencies in place.

I certainly would if I were him.

"But Broyles knew the interested parties would be more than willing to see that the problem was taken care of," I continued. "I don't know if he realised that Nina would end up coming to us, but it doesn't really matter. Ultimately, we dealt with something he couldn't. So he definitely owes us one."

"Yes," she agreed firmly. "Yes, he does. Anyway, let's get a move on. My car's over this way..."

 

* * * * *

 

I paused just inside the doorway to Nina Sharp's office, raising an eyebrow at the pale, bald figure seated across from her.

"Hello Nina," I said, my greeting a little colder than it otherwise would be. "Did we get here early?"

I felt Esther move up beside me, a reassuring presence at my side.

I didn't trust the Watchers. Maybe they weren't as bad as some of the other gangs out there, maybe they were supposed to have some kind of code of, let's call it honour for now. But still. Didn't trust them further than I could throw a bald-headed one of them. The toys they had access to... I'd seen the things that kind of tech could do, the ways in which it could go wrong.

It wasn't pretty.

And if the rumours were true, they voluntarily had that shit implanted inside them.

I had to suppress a shudder.

"Good evening, Olivia." Nina's answering greeting was still as warm as ever. "Miss Figglesworth." She nodded to Esther, then returned her attention to me. "No, you're actually right on time. Mr December will be joining us for this meeting. If the two of you will take a seat, we can get started."

With a quick, shared glance, Esther and I seated ourselves.

"Would you care for any refreshments?" Ida asked quietly. Esther and I both demurred. Mr December didn't deign to reply.

"I think we're fine, thank you Ida. You can leave us now."

"Yes, Miss Sharp."

Nina's assistant closed the door firmly behind her, leaving the four of us to stare at each other in uncomfortable silence.

Well, I was uncomfortable. I couldn't speak for the rest.

What was a Watcher doing here? I knew the group still had ties with Massive Dynamic, with Nina, but she generally managed not to throw that in my face. She knew how I felt about them.

"So." Naturally, it was Nina who broke the strained silence. "Olivia, Miss Figglesworth, you're probably wondering what Mr December is doing here."

"You could say that," I murmured, giving the man a flat look. "You said you had a job for us."

"Yes, that's correct. But perhaps it's more accurate to say that *we* have a job for you."

Well, this was unexpected. But I had to admit I was intrigued. Massive Dynamic and the Watchers joining forces to hire a private eye? It wasn't exactly business as usual. But Nina wouldn't have suggested this unless she thought there was a good chance I'd go along with it.

I supposed I should at least hear them out. Anyway, I was curious.

And we did need the money.

I leaned back in my chair.

"Go on."

Nina gave me a small smile.

"Have you heard of a scientist called Dr Vikram Chakrabarti?"

"Doc Bollywood?" I raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, I've heard of him. Supposedly he was some hotshot researcher before he got kicked out of the scientific community for reasons unspecified. Became a back-alley surgeon for a while, then apparently decided to get in the organised crime business." I shrugged. "He's not exactly on my friends list. Why do you ask?"

"Dr Chakrabarti has, shall we say, not exactly left his research interests behind him. And without oversight, it seems that he has completely discarded whatever ethical considerations he might once have had."

Okay, I had to admit I felt a certain stirring of interest. And a quick glance at Esther told me she felt the same.

"Let me guess: he's experimenting on people?"

"Yes," said Nina, her expression turning grim. "And their consent is, apparently, optional."

Part of me wanted to leap up and go hunt the son of a bitch down right then and there. Apparently Nina knew me -- knew my triggers -- better than I'd thought. But I knew there was no point in going off half-cocked. My gut told me that there was more going on here.

"Leaving aside the question of how you know this." I shot the Watcher a hard look. "For the time being. I assume there's some reason you haven't gone to the police."

"Unfortunately, Dr Chakrabarti is... connected. He has friends in high places. There's no guarantee that the police would be inclined or able to shut him down."

I nodded slowly, my eyes on Nina's face. For all it gave away, it could have been made of porcelain.

I bet she was a hell of a poker player.

"And?" I asked.

"And we do not want to risk losing the chance to contain the doctor's research." Mr December's voice was drier than old parchment.

I fixed him with a level stare.

"Did he manage to get hold of something he shouldn't?"

Because unethical back alley scientific research was one thing. It explained Nina's interest, especially if -- as the rumour had it -- this guy used to work for Massive Dynamic. But the Watchers? Sure, they might stomp on this kind of shady stuff if they came across it in passing, or if it interfered with their business. But I couldn't see them going out of their way to get involved.

Not unless they had a more personal stake in things.

"There is a... possibility that he may have managed to acquire something... proprietary."

Okay, now I really was interested. Watcher tech in the hands of someone with the Doc's morals? Or his 'friends in high places?'

That had to be stopped.

I glanced over at Esther, eyebrows raised ever-so-slightly. She gave me the tiniest nod in return.

Figured as much, but it didn't hurt to ask.

I pulled out a notebook and pen.

"Okay, start from the top. And don't leave anything out."

 

* * * * *

 

I couldn't help letting out a small sigh of relief as the door to my office cum apartment closed behind us.

Home sweet home.

I made a mental note to see about getting my furniture out of storage first thing tomorrow morning. I wanted my desk back, damnit.

Hell, with the money from this job, maybe I'd even splurge on a decent chair to go with it. Not everything I told Vik was a lie, after all. My current chair really was the pits.

I turned to Esther, mouth open to suggest we do something to celebrate closing this case. My words died unspoken at the look on her face.

She looked... mad.

"So," she said, her voice low and dangerous. "There are a few things we need to talk about, Miss Dunham."

"This is our first night together in a while, Esther," I murmured back. "Are you sure you want to spend it talking?"

I stepped in towards her, keeping my movements slow, giving her ample time to pull away if she wanted.

She didn't.

I slid my arms around her, pressed my lips against hers in a languid, gentle kiss. She kissed me back, her hands creeping upwards to twine around my neck.

I'd missed this.

When we finally surfaced for air, I started to say just that, but she got there first.

"You've never called me 'Sugar Plum' in your life," she murmured. Levelling a distinctly unimpressed look at me, she continued. "And you're not going to start now."

"No?" I said, bending to trail a line of kisses down her neck.

"No," she said firmly, but the effect somewhat spoiled when she followed that with a low noise, deep in her throat.

I smiled against her skin, clutching her hip with one hand and sliding the other under her shirt and skimming it up over the soft curve of her belly to cup her breast.

"So, just out of curiosity," I murmured, my smile widening as she tugged insistently at my coat.

"Yes?" she said.

"How much of my interrogation did you actually hear?"

"All of it," she said, matter-of-factly, continuing in the same tone with: "You're wearing too many clothes. Move so I can take them off you."

"Aw," I said, pouting. "I like my hands where they are." I squeezed gently to emphasise my point, and she gasped softly.

"I like them too, but I'd like them better if we were both naked."

"Well, when you put it like that..."

I released her, and we set to work undressing each other, pausing here and there to exchange kisses, or caress some newly-revealed skin.

"I meant what I said, you know," I said, a little breathlessly, as we kissed and caressed our way to the bedroom. "You're the finest person I know." A sensible woman might have stopped there, but some imp of the perverse made me continue. "And the best assistant."

"Partner," she corrected, not missing a beat.

"Partner?" I asked.

"Partner," she said again, firmly.

I started to reply, but then she brushed her thumbs over my nipples and I found myself a little distracted.

"I think Figglesworth and Dunham, Private Eyes, sounds like a very reputable business, don't you think?"

"Mmmm, yes. But I think Dunham and Figglesworth has a better ring to it."

I pulled her in close, kissing her thoroughly as I steered her towards the bed.

"We'll discuss it," she murmured into my mouth.

"Later," I countered.

She tilted her head to one side as if she was actually considering options, but a smile played about her lips.

"Later," she agreed.

She pushed me back down onto the bed.

And we didn't get much talking done.

 

* * * * *

 

"This way, please," smiled Nina's assistant. One of her assistants, anyway. I didn't really know this one. I recalled that her name was Ida; Ida Wei. Ida's voice was so perfectly, inflectionlessly professional that I half-wondered if she was one of Massive Dynamic's products, rather than a real live human being.

I guessed that would be one way to keep salary costs down.

I thought about telling her I knew the way already, but I refrained. Besides, the route she was following wasn't one I'd travelled before. For a start, it featured rather more deserted back corridors and service elevators than I was used to, and rather fewer people. If I didn't know better, I would've thought this place was abandoned.

Suddenly, I was glad of Esther's reassuring presence at my side. Not that I suspected Nina of summoning me here for some nefarious purpose, but something was definitely up.

I had a feeling about it.

 

* * * * *

It all began with Esther Figglesworth.

And, as we lay tangled in each other's arms, sweaty and satisfied, I couldn't think of a better way to end it.


End file.
